


The Disappointing Tales of a Thief with a Penchant for Clumsiness

by acoolegg



Series: Superheroes Are Fucking Chill: A Series of Marvel Heroes and You [1]
Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: AU, AU where Wade and Vanessa never got together, F/M, Inappropriate Humor, Reader Insert, Reader-Insert, Romance, Torture, antihero reader, fem!reader - Freeform, garbage, rating subject to change depending on how much smut i write, reader's "superhero" name is calico, wacky scenarios, weird mix of comic and movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6252169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acoolegg/pseuds/acoolegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You just wanted his goddamn sword.<br/>-----<br/>In which you and Deadpool slowly become friends, and maybe even lovers, through a series of wacky events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Antagonistic

**Author's Note:**

> I love Deadpool. And whenever I fall for a superhero (or in this case antihero), I feel obligated to give you guys his love. So here we go.

It was supposed to be a simple job; follow the dude in red and steal his sword. Your employer said that she just wanted one of the guy’s swords. You weren’t gonna question her motives, as she typically paid a super fucking huge price. Fifty-k for a sword? Hell yeah you’d steal that shit, though you were curious as to what was so god damn special about a sword from a dude in red spandex.

Finding the guy wasn’t hard. All you had to do was do a little bit of research and play the waiting game when you thought you had a lead. Thank the deities that you got it right on the first time, because you didn’t feel like waiting too terribly long. So when he returned, you smirked widely. Then you wondered why the fuck he came back outfitted in the red spandex. From what you read online, this asshole was not just an asshole, but a _notorious_ asshole. How no one had come to find him yet was beyond you.

Even without your super sensitive ears, you could’ve heard the dude talking loudly from your spot in the discarded boxes. Through your observations throughout the day you knew that there was a little old blind black lady living with him, (you were in awe at how many adjectives were needed to describe the grandma) so you assumed that he was talking to her.

“Christ, Al, you should’ve seen the shit that those assholes were using!” He laughed loudly, “It was fucking insane. I wish you could’ve been there.” You blinked twice, then shrugged. You certainly weren’t expecting him to be so damn excited about killing guys. There was the clattering of things falling to the floor, and you hoped that he was taking off his weapons. It would make your job _so much easier_ if you didn’t have to subdue the guy before taking a sword.

He continued to rant about how many guys he had killed and how hilarious it was that none of them were wearing brown pants. You gagged quietly at that, immediately getting his joke. Almost too soon, he said, “Welp, I’m gonna go to bed. I have a feeling something cool’s gonna happen.” You paled, then shook your head. You needed to get this damn sword, or she’d get upset. He probably was referencing having an exciting dream. Or an exciting trip (he seemed like the type to do EVERY KIND OF DRUG). Either way, there was no way he knew you were there. You were very meticulous about finding your hiding spots.

The old lady’s voice scratched through your hearing, “Yeah, yeah, go the hell to sleep. I’m gonna watch something.”

His voice came through in an almost childish way, “Like Wheel of Fortune?”

“Yeah.” She sounded a thousand percent done with him. _You_ were already done with how damn excited he sounded.

So you continued to play the waiting game, pulling out your phone and loading up Trivia Crack. You were _so damn close_ to beating Janice. What? You only worked as a thief part-time, so of course you knew normal people. When you weren’t stealing shit you worked from your apartment as a graphic designer. It was the exact opposite of exciting, but just what you needed to balance out how fucking insane your life was.

Your ears eventually caught the hard breaths of snoring, and you grinned. Standing up, you stretched your arms above your head and leaned back until you felt a satisfying ‘pop!’ A content groan fell from your lips when you hunched over. “God, I love popping my back. Now…” You stood up straight and adjusted the black fabric over your eyes. “To make sure that I can see out of this stupid mask.” When it was adjusted just right, you tapped the buttons on the insides of your palms. Claws popped out from the black gloves, small and undetectable but sharp enough to cause some real damage.

You thought it was stupid how much shit you had purchased for thieving, but it definitely helped get your name out there. The thief with a mutation and money seemed more than a novelty; it seemed like the logical person to go to when you needed something stolen.

A thief with a mutation? Yep, that’s you. You had a variety of traits due to your mutation. Like most mutants, you had super strength. You had also gained super hearing, night vision, super speed, and advanced reflexes. You were, for lack of a better word, a cat.

Anywho, you were getting off track. You walked towards the door, opening up the pouch on your belt to pull out a couple things for picking the lock. Crouching down in front of the lock, you blinked twice before standing back up. The lock was broken. Shrugging your shoulders, you grabbed the doorknob and twisted it. When the doorknob clicked you grinned and opened the door. Then you paled, because the door squeaked super hella loud.

There was a figure on the couch that shot up, and you recognized the hunched over form as the little old lady. “Wade?” she called out. “The door opened up.” You began to step back, hoping to ollie out before this Wade fellow somehow managed to get out of whatever room he was in.

“I’ll be out in a second, Al!” he called back. You looked around worriedly, hoping and praying that luck was on your side, then caught sight of a solid black hilt. Jackpot. You mentally thanked the deities for your night vision, as you probably wouldn’t have seen the sword without it. You grinned and snatched the sword up.

You turned around and started to take off, smirking successfully. Because that asshole didn’t come out, you got his goddamn sword! Fuck yeah! Unfortunately for you, your victory monologue was cut short as your left foot caught onto an uneven piece of pavement. You fell forward with a loud ‘oomph!’ “Actually, I think someone just broke in.”

There was mad scrambling, both from you and the Wade guy. _You_ trying to get up and out, _Wade_ from trying to get out to get you. You managed to get up, hissing when you saw the tears in your jeans. Dammit, these were fucking designer! No matter, you reminded yourself, no matter. Fifty-k for new jeans, here you come.

You held the sword tightly in your hand, smirking at how easy it was. Those websites sure as fuck got it wrong, didn’t they? They said the douchebag was some fearless idiot! What a bunch of fucking idiots--

“Christ!” You slapped a palm over your right ear, turning around in fury to see who fired the gun so close to you. The man in red spandex stood in the doorway, a gun in his hand and (what you assumed to be) all kinds of pissed off on his face (goddamn mask). You stuck your tongue out, the ringing in your ear dulling as you glared at him.

“Ey, you have my sword!” he called out. “Bring it back and we can pretend that this never happened, lady.” He sounded super cheerful, but he radiated “I’ll kill you” heavily. You shook your head, holding the sword tightly in your hand.

“I’ll die before I give up fifty-k for a damn sword!” you yelled back. You turned on your heel. You smirked and barked out, “Just let me go, Red Skull.”

“Oh, don’t pat yourself on the back for that,” he said sarcastically.

You raised a brow in curiosity, turning to face him entirely. “What?”

He pointed to the screen, “The author is super proud of her stupid ‘joke’, if you could even call it that.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “Anyways… Bring me back my sword, Calico.” At that, you stared at him.

“C-Calico…?”

“‘Cause you’re a kitty-kat, ain’t cha?” You flushed at his tone, eyebrows furrowing angrily. Was he… hitting on you?

“I’m taking your sword and leaving.” You turned back around, only to fall when another gunshot rang out. Startled, you hissed, feeling your canines start to sharpen. You groaned in pain since this shit hurt a lot. Another part of your mutation, and a part that you can’t control really well: when you're startled or scared, your teeth start to get pointy-sharp like a cat’s. Your pupils expanded, allowing more light to be let in. It hurt your head but it was useful for seeing every detail.

“Did I piss Calico off?” he cooed, putting his hands to his face. It looked weird, considering he was holding a pistol, but somehow it managed to piss you off even more. He walked forward, about halfway towards you. “I love cats, cats are so cool. But y’know what my favorite name for a cat is? _A pussy._ ” At that you snapped.

“Shut up!” you screamed, gripping his sword. “I just want to take your goddamn sword and get paid. Christ, she said this would be easy, but apparently, _nooooo_ , the asshole wearing red spandex really does chatter away mindlessly! Jesus, I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt - maybe you slipped up! But _nooooo_ , you really do just chatter away! Chat chat chat! Christ!” You stalked up to him, poking him in the chest angrily. “I’m taking your sword, but now it’s just because you piss me off! Jesus, lord!”

He stared down at you (you think), before saying, “That was incredibly adorable. You’re like a putty-tat that just got sprayed with water.” He holstered his gun and pat your head, “Now, c’mon Calico, give me my sword.”

You spat back, “I’m not giving you your sword.” He made the ‘gimme’ gesture, with his hand outstretched towards you. “No, fuck off, sir!”

“I’d much rather fuck on, if you catch my drift.”

You glared at him, “If I give you the sword and leave, will I never have to see you ever again?”

“Aww, don’t be like that, kitty!” He pat your head again. “Let’s be friends. Come in for a drink or some shit!”

“I’m trying to steal your sword, you idiot!” You threw the sword down, then tugged at your hair. “Fuck it! Keep your damn sword, I don’t want that shit anymore! I don’t need that fifty-k! ARGH!” There was a soft pain in your gums as your teeth shrunk back down to normal size, and a dull throb in your head as your pupils also returned to normal. “I’m going home, asshole, and we’re never seeing each other ever again!”

“Aww, Calico, don’t be like that!”

You turned around and stalked off, grumbling about how much money just went down the drain.


	2. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The asshole in red spandex showed up at your front door covered in bullets and blood.
> 
> Please, Christ, don't let this become a frequent thing.

Remember that fifty-k you lost because of the asshole in red spandex? Damn right you remember. That shit was gonna buy you new designer jeans, but he somehow annoyed you to the point that you didn’t even _care_ about the money, you just wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

Before you get too off track, you should ask yourself if there was a reason he was standing at your apartment door, bullet holes through his body. You blinked slowly - _ever so slowly_ \- before shaking your head. “Nope, nope, nope.” You went to shut the door, “This is a dream. A nightmare, actually. Why the fuck else would Red here be on my doorstep?”

“Ah, Calico, don’t slam the door on me!” He lunged forward, keeping the door open with his hand. He ended up particularly close to your face, and you glared at him firmly. You could _feel_ his smile from behind his mask as he looked at you. “Geez, you’re way prettier without the mask. Your eyes are so damn pretty! Like a kitty’s!”

“What do you want, asshole?” you asked sharply. “You’ve got thirty seconds to make a compelling case or I’m calling the cops and complaining about some creep in red dripping blood all over the hallway.” He stared at you, then made a shrill noise that landed somewhere in between a shriek and a gasp.

“Ah, great!” There was a gross slurping sound, “Well, I originally came to get some aspirin as this shot,” he tilted his head slightly to reveal a nasty looking bullet wound that you’re ninety-five percent sure took out some of his skull, “hurts the worse. But, the ouchies are starting to heal up so I guess I stopped by to see if you wanted to hang out.”

You deadpanned, “How the fuck did you know where I lived?” He seemed almost sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head. You recognized that gesture on literally everyone; that was what they did when they didn’t really want to say jack shit. You weren’t having any of that in your house. “Ey, yo, no, how the fuck did you know?”

“Well… It’s kinda not that hard to track down information on a mutant with cat-powers.”

“First of all…. They’re not cat-powers, asshole, they’re cat-like abilities. I don’t have ‘cat-powers’, and I’ll fucking beat your ass if you say I do. Second of all, who spilled what? Was it just my address or was it my name as well?” You had opened the door all the way at this point to glare at him.

“It was just your address! Though I’m certain your name is cool. Super cool. Can I know your name?” Your glare fell to a particularly large bullet wound in the center of his stomach, which made some disgusting sounds as it started to heal up.

“No, you can’t know my name. But, ugh, you can come inside before anyone else sees this gross shit. Janice already hates gory things and superheroes, so it’s best if she doesn’t see you.” You grabbed him by the front of his suit, tugging him inside your apartment. It was prettily furnished, with warm colors and new furniture that you had handpicked to match it. This was the apartment you paid for with thieving, and damn were you proud of it. “Try not to get blood on anything. Stand here while I go get a towel. Don’t touch anything, and don’t move. I’ll kill you if you do.”

You walked away, turning down a small hallway and opening a closet on the left. Pulling out a towel, you sighed and looked for the aspirin as well. Lord knew you were going to need it; not for him, no, for yourself. He doesn’t deserve any of your goddamned aspirin after he caused you to lose fifty-k.

Finding the aspirin and a first-aid kit, you took the pile of stuff out to your small foyer. He had moved and you screamed at the dribbles of blood that lead to your kitchen. “I said I’ll kill you, motherfucker!” You ran into your kitchen, hopping over the droplets, and saw him in your freezer. “You’re dead! Dead! I asked you to stay in the fucking foyer! But now there’s blood on my very nice wood floors, and you’re getting blood on my stainless steel!” You dropped the first-aid kit and aspirin onto the counter, taking the towel and trying to wipe the blood smears off of everything.

He looked over at you (you thought it was kind of an awed stare, but the fucking mask was annoying as fuck) as you hastily scrubbed at a spot on the floor. “I thought that towel was for me?” He couldn’t help but smirk when you glared up at him, pupils dilating. He thought it was cool that they did that when you were getting ready to snap.

You hissed and looked back at the spot on the floor, “I’m legitimately going to kill you. Like? No joke, you’re gonna die today. I’mma kill you, motherfurricker.” You slapped a hand over your mouth, the slip-up unexpected. The only reason it had happened was because he had leaned down and started scratching behind your ears. (No, you didn’t have cat ears. They were human ears. You weren’t some weird fucking Japanese neko.) Despite your better judgement, you started purring. That’s right, a purr. A full on purr, the kind that helped your headaches.“Furrrrrick.”

“Holy shit, you purr.” You growled in the back of your throat when he let up. “What the hell!? That’s fucking sick! Holy fuck, how the hell do you do that!?” You slapped his hand away when he reached forward to pat your head again. “You really are a fucking cat, holy hell!”

When you looked up to make some stupid snotty remark, you ended up staring at the patch of skin exposed from ripped spandex. It was where the bullet wound in his stomach used to be. With a kind of really weird gross fascination, you reached forward to touch the skin. It was bumped and clustered weirdly, with the raised portions a darker peach than the rest of his skin. He bounced when your hand came in touch with it. You hastily whispered, “Holy shit your skin is sick.”

That was apparently not the thing he was expecting you to say, as a silence fell over you two. After a moment, he said, “What?” A weird fascination switch was triggered within you (as a fan of science fiction and horror novels), and you continued to touch the skin on his stomach. “Didn’t you just threaten to kill me like, forty-five seconds ago?”

“Yes and that is still in play as there is blood ON MY FRIDGE. But before I do that, I’m gonna look at the skin here. This is fucking rad.” You scooted up onto your knees, head angled up to stare at the skin. It was so cool. All bunched together and raised like there were bits of stuff underneath it. It was super rad. So rad. And it healed back? Did he have some weird healing mutation? That was sick. So sick.

“Yooooooou’re in a very awkward position.” You blinked, looking up at him. Realizing what he meant, you lowered your hand and formed a fist. Then you punched him in the balls. His voice went into a _very_ unnatural octave as he whined out, “Holy fuck!”

You shook your hand, “I’ve decided I don’t want to commit murder, so that’s for getting blood all over my shit.” You picked up the (now bloodied) towel and sighed, “This was cashmere, too…” You shrugged and threw it up into the sink before standing up. “Okay, well, you’ve certainly caught my interest, what with the cool as fuck skin and the fact that your wounds healed.” You reached up and grabbed his face, tilting his head back and forth to examine the wound on the back of his head. There wasn’t skin there yet, but there was very clearly bone that wasn’t there before. “You’re a healer? A healing mutant?”

“Yes?” He voice still shook, cracking in that unnatural octave. “Well, I can’t heal others. Least, I don’t _think_ I can.” You nodded, taking in the new information.

“Do you feel pain with the healing ability?” you asked, continuing to examine him. You walked around him, inhaling the scent of blood. “Like, does healing hurt? Do you still feel pain? This is so cool…”

“I still feel pain, but I have a high pain tolerance. And healing doesn’t hurt, it just feels weird.”

“Huh, that’s cool.” You circled him for the third time, then nodded calmly. “Okay, that’s sick. You could be, like, a science fiction novel character or something.”

He giggled before saying, “Or a comic book character. Or a movie character.”

“Sure? If you’d think that be fun.” You jumped onto your counter, sitting on it and swinging your legs back and forth. “So, if you have a high pain tolerance, does getting hit in the balls really hurt that much?”

“Oh Christ, what the fuck? They’re MY BALLS. Of COURSE they would hurt like fucking hell!” You grinned devilishly. “I don’t like that face.”

“Well, I like this face, so heh. Anyways, I assume that you’re going to be dropping by pretty frequently now that you know where I live?” He continued to stare. “Yo, asshole, I’m asking a question.”

“So… we’re friends now because you like my skin? And my cool mutant abilities?”

“Friends…. _might_ be stretching it. Acquaintances. Acquaintances for now.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Now, onto the more important question: what were you doing that got you shot? And why did you decide to come to my apartment?”

“Haha, looooong story. Basically, I pissed off a bunch of guys trying to mug this school bus full of kids - they had guns and--”

“There were a bunch of assholes trying to mug some kids?” Your eyebrows furrowed angrily. “What cocks! Holy fuck, I’ll cut their dicks off! Asses! They’re kids what the fuck--”

“This is MY story, thank you very much. I would like to continue it.” You rolled your eyes and shut your mouth. You had an inkling of suspicion that if this (whatever weird, fucked up relationship _this_ was) continued, conversations would be like that. “Okay, well, they got pissed when I got there, and I got shot up. The kids got okay, so don’t worry about it. But it was fucking annoying how they acted. Fucking dicks. They shot me up, I disposed of them properly, and realized that you were in the neighborhood.”

You deadpanned, “I didn’t hear any gunshots.”

“Well, it was, like, seven blocks over.”

“Holy Christ.”

“Nah, I’m just Deadpool.”


	3. Overindulge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have some tea with Janice.
> 
> And then some cake with him.
> 
> Fuck, he's really worming his way into your life, isn't he?

Janice sat across from you, dressed beautifully in her pale blue sundress and pinned back brown hair. You two were eating at a rather fancy cafe, out underneath its awning. Janice sipped on her tea while you munched on a blueberry muffin, a comfortable silence between you two. You were people watching, waiting to see if anyone would do something stupid.

Your friend cleared her throat. You looked back at her, moving to face her head-on. “So,” she said softly, setting down her tea. “What’s been up in your life, my sweet?” You set your head on your hand, staring at her adoringly. Janice was everything you could ever want to be. From her soft-spoken, yet firm nature to her wonderful job position and her loving family, she was perfect. “Dear, are you going to respond?”

“Oh, sorry, J. I just get so lost in your big beautiful brown eyes. They’re like a forest, or like chocolate, y’know? So pretty. Absolutely gorgeous.” You took immense pleasure from how she flushed slightly and smiled widely. You two shared a very personal relationship, having been friends for a few years. “Anyways, nothing’s been up. Just been working hard and trying to see if I can convince Sammy to give me a break so I can adopt a puppy.”

“You’re really serious about this whole puppy business, aren’t you? Jeremy wants to get a puppy for the twins.” The twins were the fraternal son-and-daughter pair that she had a year and a half ago. Despite the fact that kids frightened you, you found the two munchkins to be incredibly cute and well-mannered. Jeremy was her husband and their father. “Maybe if we talk to Sammy together, he’ll reconsider your offer. Why did he say we can’t have animals on our floor again?”

You crossed your arm, “Because one of Crazy Eunice’s parrots got caught in a ceiling fan in the hallway and got splattered all over the apartment floor.” Janice made a disgusted face. “Yeah, that was SIX years ago, back before you moved in with Jeremy. You would’ve thought that he would’ve lifted the ban of pets on our floor… But then again, everyone in the building has a soft spot for you, J.”

At this, she smiled bashfully. “You’re too kind to me, sweetheart.” You sighed adoringly. Janice truly was the most wonderful human being on the planet. Better than everyone. _Especially_ the Red Menace. “But, yeah, I guess we could use it to our advantage. Sammy has a soft spot for you too, honey.”

“What! No way. Sammy thinks I’m annoying.” You scoffed and shook your head with a playful, disbelieving smile.

“Not at all. He worried when you're out on your business trips. Always checks up on the place for you. Did he tell you what happened last time you were out on a trip? That one two weeks ago?” You blinked curiously. This was the first time you were hearing about Sammy liking you, checking up on your apartment, and of something happening last time you were out. What the fuck?

You responded, “Noooooo?” Janice’s face fell, and she shook her head melancholically. “Jani, what happened when I was out two weeks ago?” you asked softly, nearing worry. Typically you didn’t mind this kind of stuff, but if Janice was freaking out and/or worried about it, you were going to worry about it.

“There was this… man! Sammy said he was outfitted in all red, wearing spandex!” You paled. Oh no. You grit your teeth. “He was banging on your door and asking to be let in, apparently yelling some very _very_ inappropriate things. Our building is a family-oriented building! But this man kept calling out for “Calico” and such. Sammy says that the man reminded him of that crazy man claiming to be that so-called “hero”, Deadpool!”

You were going to kill him. You spoke softly, trying to feign an underlying fear of the fact some masked idiot in red spandex was banging on your dead, “I can’t believe that happened while I was gone.” You were going to kill Red. You were straight going to murder him tonight.

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you, but he probably didn’t want you to worry.” Janice picked up her teacup again, sipping from it. “Well, if you say a puppy would make you feel safer, and if I say that I feel the same way, he’ll surely consider it.”

You smiled gently at her, “I’m certain he will, J. Now,” your phone vibrated, drawing your attention away for a second. It was just an email. “I have some work to do back at my place. You wanna head home?”

She nodded, smiling peacefully. “I’m certain Jeremy has plenty of father-son-daughter time with Jessica and James.” You grinned at her, popping the last of your blueberry muffin into your mouth. You could push aside your anger long enough to enjoy the rest of your time with Janice. She was basically your older sister (and your favorite human being).

Standing up, as you two had already paid, you offered her your elbow. She accepted it, pulling on a cream-colored sweater before slinging her bag onto her shoulder. You two walked back to the apartment building, making idle conversations about what dog breeds would be best for children and safety. You smiled peacefully, trying to keep your anger subdued while you listened to her ramble about whether or not it was too hot for a husky puppy in Vancouver. (You answered with, “J, huskies like to run and we live in an apartment.” She looked down sadly and you felt bad.)

When you two got into the apartment building, she broke off because she saw her family in the lobby. Jeremy smiled tiredly at his wife while Jessie and James (you mentally screamed TEAM ROCKET every time you saw them) screeched happily at seeing their mother. “Goodbye, honey! I’ll text you later!”

“Later, J! Loves!” you shouted back cheerfully. She called out ‘loves!’, but you were already in the elevator so you couldn’t try to one up her love like you typically did. You hit the ‘7’ button before leaning against the back of the elevator. Crossing your arms, you rubbed your head. The fuck was he trying to do, get the cops called on him? Fucking idiot!

The elevator ‘dinged!’ and opened up. You looked down the hallway with a fierce gaze, glaring as you looked for him. He was nowhere to be seen, so you grinned. Good, though you were wondering if the fact he hadn’t been by since your last trip was because of Sammy finding him on your doorstep.

You walked towards your apartment, fumbling with your keys as you did so. Pulling up the right one, you stuck it in the lock and twisted until the door clicked. Once it did, you opened the door and screamed. He sat on your floor, staring at the door like some kind of lost puppy. “HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET IN HERE.” It wasn’t even a question. You couldn’t even make it a question, as your teeth started to change shape and you were pissed because you were in pain.

“You left your window unlocked and you live next to a fire escape? C’mon, Calico, you’re smarter than this.” He was trying to make a joke, and you could feel the anger rising back up in your throat. “Calico?” He tilted his head to the side. Then he “innocently” asked, “Why’s your face going all red?”

“I’m going to fucking--” You lunged forward, grabbing him by his neck and shaking him back and forth. You had managed to kick the door shut in your lunge for him, so no one on your floor had to witness you kill a man. “I’m going to kill you, asshole! Fucking! What the hell!” You continued to shake him by his neck, your canines starting to poke past your lips. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

“Okay, but before you do that.” He brought his hands up and forced you to let go of his neck. “I brought some cake?” You blinked a couple times, mouth falling into a small ‘o’. How had he found out about your love of cake? “And, before you ask, I stalked you on Instagram and saw how many fucking pictures of cake you have on there.” Your face went from surprised awe to fury. “It wasn’t that hard, t-b-h.”

“I’m going to murder you. I’m going to murder you and then eat the cake over your body.” You went for his neck again, but he bypassed you and raised a hand to scratch behind your ear. “Motherfurrrrrrrr _rrrrrrrrr…_ ” You never were this sensitive to touches before. You had to know the person to purr this easily! What the fuck! But your body was just like ‘hell yeah, purr for this mother fucker.’

“There’s a good kitty! Now, let’s calm down and eat some cake. You can kill me later!” He pulled his hand away from your ear, patting you on the head before pushing you away from him. You begrudgingly stood up, still pissed at the fact that he could get you to purr so easily. It was the texture of the gloves. You were convinced it was the texture of the gloves.

“Okay, but before we eat cake and I kill you.” You crossed your arms. “J just said that you were banging on my door two weeks ago.”

He stopped and turned to you, rubbing his chin and humming. After a second, he gasped. “Oh yeah! I did that. This really round bald asshole started chasing me off and I’ve been too busy to come back since then.”

You spat out, “Sammy is sweet and I’m glad he chased you off.” But, despite your mean comment, you followed him into the kitchen. On the counter was a delightfully beautiful slice of what looked like strawberry shortcake. Your stared at it.

Apparently you had been staring at it for too long, as he said, “You look like a kitten about to pounce on a stuffed toy, you cutie you.” You looked at him, clearly annoyed, before you realized something.

“There’s only one piece of cake, idiot. Where’s yours?”

“Oh, I just bought it for you.” You rolled your eyes, walking over to a cabinet and pulling out two plates. Then you opened a drawer and pulled out a knife and two forks. You walked back to the slice and cut it in half quickly. “What the fuuuuuck!?” he whined. “Why would you destroy it like that!?”

“Thanks for the cake, but I’m not some kinda asshole that’ll just eat cake in front of someone else.” You picked up the bigger half, putting it on a plate. Setting the fork on it, you handed it to him. You waved at him, “I don’t know how you are about the mask - I simply don’t care enough to ask - but if you need to eat in another room so you can take it off you can.” You actually were a bit curious, but you were already a huge asshole so you couldn’t ruin that reputation by seeming like you were interested.

He stared at you before sniffling. “You’re almost as bipolar as me!” he cheered happily. You shrugged and set the smaller half on your plate. You grabbed your own fork, leaning against the counter before cutting into the cake. “But I’m not, like, _ashamed_ of my face or anything, Calico.” To make a point, he set his plate down and rolled up the bottom of his mask. You ended up staring at the skin around his mouth in awe. It was fucking incredible. So weird - it looked wrinkled, yet not. He picked his plate back up and shoved a bite into his mouth. “So,” he spoke with his mouth full (gross), “ya gonna ask?”

“Ask what?” you asked calmly. You weren’t gonna ask anything, actually. You were just gonna stare at his cool skin.

“Ask why my skin’s all fucked up.”

“Not at all. I might be a bitch but I’m not so big of a bitch as to dig into your business.” You sliced a piece of cake off and chewed it thoughtfully.

“You’re serious?” he asked, awed.

You swallowed. “Yeah.” You cut another piece off.

“Sweet. Well, it was cancer.” You choked on your bite. “And then my mutation kicked in and now I’m a cancerous freak that can’t die. Which is cool, I guess.”

You slapped your chest a couple times, trying to get the cake down. “What the _faaaaaak_?” You stared at him. “Seriously, what the hell, dude? You can’t die?”

“It’s weird, right?”

“No, not at all. I guess I just can’t threaten to murder you anymore. Damn it.” You sighed dejectedly. “Now how am I supposed to threaten to get you out of my house? You’re not scared of the cops…”

You chewed on some more cake while he stared at you, mask up over his nose and mouth hanging open. Had you been able to read minds, you would’ve known that you saying that he wasn’t weird actually meant a lot. Like, holy fuck. That’s sick as fuck.

But you weren’t a mind reader, and you were genuinely perplexed at how you were going to get him out of your house.


	4. Stalked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kitty can be _very_ territorial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sorry for how late this is, i had to do a lot of research)

The last thing you remembered was being slapped upside the head by some bitch. Then you woke up, tied in a chair with an _incredibly_ bloody nose. And a black eye. Both of which were incredibly annoying; not because of the pain, but because they itched _a lot_. You had tried to angle your head and shoulder to rub them against your shirt, though you found that you couldn’t quite reach the itch.

You threw your head back, groaning loudly. Kidnapped. You were fucking kidnapped and beat up. Why the fuck else would you be tied to a chair with your beautiful face beat to hell and back? In what you assumed was a large room, since everything was black except for the dim light above you. Cliche, much?

You only wondered why they kidnapped you. You hadn’t stolen anything _super_ important as of late. You didn’t have rich parents - your parents were dead so it wouldn’t do much good anyway - or someone to pay for your ransom. You’d never impose that on Janice and Jeremy.

A door opened before you could continue your self-interrogation. A man with a wicked smile stepped in, wearing a dark black turtleneck and a lab coat. You raised your eyebrows (or at least tried, the one above your black eye didn’t feel like cooperating) and prepared to say something witty. He raised a hand when you opened your mouth. He murmured your name, then said, “So you’re the girl that Mister Wilson has been paying attention to lately.”

“Woman. I’m a woman, not a girl. I’m twenty-eight, fucker.” You glared at him pointedly. “And who the fuck is Mister Wilson?” You had a feeling you knew who this ‘Mister Wilson’ was, but you wanted to confirm. “I don’t know any ‘Mister Wilson’s. I know a Mister Donnell. I’m good friends with his wife.” You tilted your head, staring at him beneath your (working) eye’s lashes. “I don’t have many male friends, so please don’t waste my time.”

He grinned, “Perhaps I can be a friend of yours, then?” You grinned sharply, trying to hide the fear his dark smile put in you. His teeth were probably all razor-sharp, and his eyes had started to glow a soft amber. “Us cats have to stay together, right?” At that, you paled. Another mutant with cat-like abilities? But, how? Mutations were individual - everyone had a different mutation! And… how did he know of your mutation?

“Another… cat?” you asked softly, looking down. How the fuck was there another cat-like mutant? How the fuck! And how did he get glowing eyes? That shit was cool… There was the ruffle of clothing, and he walked towards you.

“You may call me Leo.” Cold hands touched your chin before forcing your head up to stare at him. He stared at you darkly while he chewed on his lip. “You are a… _beautiful_ house cat, I must say. But there’s nothing too significantly special about another house cat.” You bared your teeth, ignoring the pain that came with your teeth sharpening. You were frightened.

“A _house cat_?” you inquired haughtily. “I’m a _house cat_? Bitch, obviously you don’t know me.” If he was going to kill you then you wanted to go out with the last laugh. You crossed your legs (thanking the deities that they had left those untied) and grinned maliciously. “I’m no house cat, asshole. If you don’t know that then you don’t deserve to be in my presence.” A tendril of hair fell in your face, and you flipped it out of the way by moving your head. “Anyway… You’re a cat, too? Well then, if you’re no house cat, what are you?” He stared at you. “A leopard, right? Your name is stupid enough to reveal that.” He glared angrily. “Tell me, _kitty_ , how many cat-like mutants are there?”

“You… honestly don’t know?” He started to laugh. “You’re really an idiot. There are about fifty of us.” You rolled your eyes; how were you supposed to know? “You thought that our Master would lose track of us?”

“Our _Master_?” you asked dumbly. “What the fuck are you going on about?” Leo grinned darkly, his sharp teeth catching the dim light and shining. “Oh, cool. You can look scary. Get to explaining, asshole.”

“Your parents were soldiers, right?” You raised an eyebrow, nodding. “Your mother, she had been held hostage by enemy forces for more than a month?” You nodded again. “Iraq?” You nodded once more.

“How do you know all this?” Your confident and asshole-ish facade had fallen. Your interest was peaked, however. Your mother never really went into detail on her time in the military. You knew she had been held hostage, and that was about it.

“My mother is from a village in Pakistan. She was taken into the ‘program’ your mother was in as well.” He sat his hands on your shoulders. “Our master infused their ovarian eggs with a cat-like mutation.” You blinked. “Some strands were that of simple house cats, like yours. Others were like mine, of incredible big cats.” His grin was back, his amber eyes glowing in the minimal light. “Master wanted all of us to come home soon, but I can’t let that happen. I’m the favorite kitten, and I plan on keeping it that way.”

You snapped, “Stop with the ambiguous shit, are you tryna kill me or not?” Leo hadn’t been expecting your outburst and he stared at you before laughing. You frowned, a headache forming in the back of your head. You needed aspirin.

He stopped laughing, chuckling as he said, “You’re a bright house cat, nothing like the others I’ve encountered. Yes, I’m going to kill you.” You rolled your eyes; had he not heard you correctly? Whatever. More important things to approach.

“Okay, cool. I said ‘tryna’ but whatevs. Who the fuck is that ‘Mister Wilson’ and what does he have to do with this, cat thief?” You looked at him with a bland look, trying to seem that you were as bored as possible.

“Mister Wilson is your friend in red, kitty.” You expected as much. “I was told by my boss to find and kill him, but he led me to you instead! I’m hoping he’ll show up to play soon so I can kill him as well. Two birds with one stone and so on. I sent him a ransom letter and everything!”

“Doubt it. Red and I aren’t very good friends.” You shrugged. “Just give me a fighting chance, yeah? I don’t want you to slaughter me while I’m in tied to a very _uncomfortable_ chair.”

“You don’t even have claws, how cute,” he cooed. You rolled your eyes (or at least tried. Your black eyes was basically swelled shut and you couldn’t tell if you rolled it or not). “Yes, little kitty, I’ll let you out to play.”

“Sweet.” He came over and snapped the tight bonds of your wrists. “Also--” You kicked him in the stomach. “I’m not little.” That seemed to piss him off, as he growled and lunged for you. You ducked beneath his hand, reaching up and yanking his wrist down. He grabbed the front of your shirt and yanked you into his chest, causing you to lose grip on his wrist. His hands went to your head and started to twist. You grabbed his wrists again and tried to keep it in place.

You two struggled, Leo trying to kill you and you trying not to die. You two stopped struggling when the door slammed open. Leo’s grip let up, and you rolled backwards and hissed at him. In the door stood your friend.

“Calico!” he wailed.

You turned and smiled slightly at him. “Deadpool,” you said simply, relief tumbling over you. Despite the fact that you were a fighter and you would fight ‘til he tore your throat out, you knew you wouldn’t last long if he got your other eye. Fighting with one eye and a bloody nose was hard enough as is, fighting blind was a death sentence.

He ran towards you, scooping you up into his arms and crushing you against his chest in a hug. “Fuck, woman, you scared me! I break into your apartment and there’s blood everywhere - your carpet is ruined, by the way - and then I get a fucking ransom note! Jesus fucking hell!” You glared at him, demanding to be put down. He did so, checking over you. “Aw, your eye’s all bruised over. Now how’s your cool cat vision supposed to work?”

You pushed his hand away from your face, “Dude, not now.”

“Yes, not now.” You had forgotten Leo was still in the room. You were just glad he had shown up, mostly because he had proved you wrong. Guess you two were friends then. Leo groaned, “How did you get past all the _armed_ guards, Mister Wilson?”

“Hey!” Deadpool pointed at Leo, “That’s Mister _Deadpool_ to you.” You rolled your eyes in annoyance. “And they weren’t that hard to kill, asshole. Now, we gotta see if you’re any harder to kill since you stole my b-f-f.”

You put your hand in front of him when he reached for the swords on his back. (Your one eye eyed one, wondering if your buyer would still be interested in it. Then you mentally slapped yourself.) “Not now, asshole. This _bigger_ asshole has some information I need.” You lowered your hand. “Don’t kill him. Just subdue him so I can _beat the information_ out of him.” You grinned maliciously. “I might be a _house cat_...”

Deadpool chuckled and whispered excitedly, “Oh man, she’s gonna make a sweet one-liner!” He reached for the guns on his hips, pulling them out and turning the safety off.

“But this is my _guard dog._ ”

\---

When Leo came to, he was tied to the same chair you had originally been in. He could hear you talking angrily to Deadpool about how pissed you were that it was gonna take _at least_ a week for your eye to return to normal. He took some pride in knowing that you were out of commission temporarily because of him.

“Fucking, don’t touch it, dude!” You hissed, slapping his hand away from your eye. You heard a loud groan and glared over at the asshole in the light. You could get a good look at him now. Dark brown eyes and skin the color of a cardboard box. His hair was a bright blond with speckles of brown throughout it. He was built big, muscles on every part of his body. He looked gross, though. “Asshole’s awake.”

He purred, “Nice to see you too, kitten.” You walked over to him, pulling on your gloves. Deadpool had brought them for you, figuring you’d want to kick some ass if you weren’t hurt too much. As soon as you stood in front of him, he realized he might’ve underestimated what kind of kitty you were. Your canines were _very_ visible, and you looked both attractive and terrifying glaring down at him.

“Now, asshole, you’re gonna tell me everything you know about this ‘Master’ character.” You pressed the buttons in the center of your gloves, claws popping out. Leo just grinned at you.

He said snobbishly, “Why should I tell you anything?” You rolled your eyes before grabbing his junk and squeezing. He wheezed in pain, struggling to get you off of him. “What the fu--”

“I’ll peel your dick like a banana!” (You thought you heard Deadpool say ‘I’d be into that’ but you tried to ignore it.) “Now, Leo.” You let up slightly, and he breathed a soft sigh of relief. “Tell me what the fuck I want to know right the fuck now.”

“I’m Master’s favorite kitten for a reason,” he huffed, trying to get his bearings together. You firmed up your grip. “ _I’ll never tell you who Master is!_ ”

“You got a daddy kink or something?” Deadpool asked, walking up and looking at him from over your head. “You sure do seem like a fuckboy.” Leo squeaked when you let go of his balls, groaning in relief this time. Your friend in red grabbed your shoulder and pushed you aside. “Let me do the torturing, Calico.”

You shrugged, stepping back. “One more time, Leo. Who or _what_ is this Master you keep talking about?” DP (Deadpool shortened, because it was fucking annoying to continuously call him _Deadpool_ ) pulled one of his katanas out, setting it against the man’s thigh. The fact that there was something sharp apparently started to weaken his “defenses”, as he let out a loud wheeze. “Leo. If you don’t want a fucking sword through your thigh, you’ll answer me.”

“M-M-Master is, well they’re, they’re a-” Leo screamed out when DP shoved the sword through the fabric of his pants and into his thigh (you thought it was only a little bit of the sword, but then again you’ve never had a sword in your thigh so you didn’t know).

“Now now now, kitty, don’t stutter.” You could hear a smirk in his voice, rolling your eyes. Could you two just torture the guy and get out? You didn’t need the mindless chit chat. Your stomach had started to rumble and you were craving some McDonald’s. “Who’s your _Master_?” he practically purred.

“We don’t know their name, but they’re apart of the Weapon X project! The same project that made _you!_ ” He turned and looked at DP with crazed eyes. At this, you blinked. Weapon X project? Made DP? What the fuck? “They made the cat serums and kidnapped over two hundred women to work on their ovarian eggs! They killed one hundred seventy-five of the women when they fought back! And, and now they want - they want their kitties to come home! I only know this because Master sends me out as a hired gun! I’m in contact with them - that doesn’t mean I’ve met them! Please - I swear!”

You placed a hand on DP’s shoulder, watching as he tried to shove the sword farther into Leo’s leg. Shaking your head, you murmured, “That’s enough.” You were processing this whole ‘Master’ thing still and you didn’t really want to hear anymore about it. You weren’t going to leave him bleeding out in a chair, though. You went over and dug in his pockets, pulling out a smartphone and setting it on his lap. “You’re a smart kitty, so I’m gonna give you a chance to get out and get medical help… But don’t show back up in my life or,” you pointed at Deadpool, “ _his life_ anytime soon. Or I’ll be the one to shove a sword through your thigh.”

You turned on your heel and walked out, ignoring the squelch of DP pulling his sword of out Leo’s thigh. You were just outside of the door when your head started spinning, and you collapsed forward. Just what you needed, to be stressed out to the point of passing out.

You think you heard Deadpool call out your name. Your _real name_. Fuck.


End file.
